


sausages and coffee

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, corny boyfriends, sleepy shiro warm shiro big boft boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: Keith gestures at the pancake with his spatula as an answer, causing Shiro to sigh and grumble, “Wanted sausages.”There's an innuendo if Keith's ever heard one. Raising an amused eyebrow at his sleepy boyfriend, Keith teasingly asks, “Sausages, huh?”“Fat, juicy sausages,” Shiro sighs longingly, “With coffee that’s got just a little bit of cream in it.”





	sausages and coffee

**Author's Note:**

> so nonis was doing a stream. They took a break and came back with coffee and sausages. To which one of the stream attendees went “that sounds like an innuendo for morning sex” and I went *ding*
> 
> so here you go. corny boyfriends having morning sex

“Hey,” Keith greets Shiro over his shoulder when he hears a shuffling sound behind him. His eyes remain focused on the pancake cooking away on the frying pan. He gently shoves the spatula under the pancake, checking if it's ready to be flipped. He gently turns it over onto the uncooked side as Shiro presses up behind him, sleep warm and heavy.

 

“What’re you making?” Shiro asks, lips pressed against Keith’s shoulder. His fingers slip under the tee Keith’s wearing, resting against the treasure trail dipping under elastic and cotton.

 

Keith gestures at the pancake with his spatula as an answer, causing Shiro to sigh and grumble, “Wanted sausages.” 

 

There's an innuendo if Keith's ever heard one. Raising an amused eyebrow at his sleepy boyfriend, Keith teasingly asks, “Sausages, huh?” 

 

“Fat, juicy sausages,” Shiro sighs longingly, “With coffee that’s got just a little bit of cream in it.” 

 

Shiro shifts behind him, pressing his morning wood against Keith’s ass. Pausing, Keith suddenly isn’t sure if they're talking about food or if Shiro really wants to have sex. Either way, Keith shakes with laughter, trying to transfer the pancake out of the pan and into the plate without dropping it halfway. But sure enough, thanks to his laughter, it falls on the counter instead.

 

Whatever. It was burnt anyways. 

 

He turns the stove off, tosses the spatula away into the sink, and turns around. Slips his arms around Shiro with a grin, “I could go for a fat, juicy sausage too.” 

 

Shiro frowns down at him, looking adorably disheveled and sad when he says, “But we’re all out, babe. Remember? We made some two days ago. I put it on the list myself after tossing the wrapper away.” 

 

Keith gives up and laughs out loud, hiding his face against Shiro’s bare chest. Shiro meanwhile, holds him in place and asks, “What’s so funny? I don’t get it?” 

 

“Fat, juicy sausages, Shiro,” Keith chortles, shaking his head before looking up. Shiro squints down in confusion, trying to understand even when Keith gives him a lascivious look. God, Shiro is so adorable right after he wakes up. “Think about it.” 

 

It takes a minute and then Shiro’s face scrunches up into an embarrassed groan, “Fuck.” 

 

“We can if you want,” Keith teases, cheeks hurting thanks to the size of his grin. “You know the table can take it.” 

 

Shiro turns slightly to eye the table before grinning, “I’m always up for your sausage.”

 

They’ve been together for years now and Keith _still_ can’t deal with Shiro’s terrible jokes. This is no exception. He slaps a hand over his eyes with a groan, complaining, “That was _terrible_.” 

 

“Terribly true,” Shiro chirps back with a smile that's bright enough to rival the sun that's rising outside on his lips and utterly unrepentant. His erection presses against Keith's crotch as he hefts Keith up against him. “You know you love my jokes.”

 

As he wraps his arms and legs around Shiro, Keith grumbles, “You’re lucky I love you.” 

 

Shiro puts him down on the table gently, smiling lovingly down at Keith. It makes him want to wriggle with happiness and kiss Shiro until their lips are numb. 

 

“Yeah I am,” Shiro murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the apple of Keith’s cheek. The other cheek, another kiss to the tip of his nose before he’s pressing their foreheads together, their messy fringes mixing together in a mess of ebony and silver. He feels heat rise up his neck, along with the urge to shyly hide his face against the cool wood. Instead, Keith demurely lowers his eyes with a smile, stroking up Shiro’s sides when their mouths meet in a soft, mint-flavored kiss.

 

When they break apart, Shiro’s still smiling down at him, faint crow lines appearing as his smile grows into something delightfully wicked, “Hang on. Don’t want you sliding off the table again.”

 

Groan-laughing, Keith reaches overhead to grab the edge of the table as Shiro pulls his underwear off. His broad hands are hot against Keith’s thighs, pushing them open to make room for Shiro’s broad girth,  “That was _one_  time.” 

 

“And you got a concussion. I don’t want to do that again,” Shiro retorts, sucking a quick mark into Keith’s hip bone. 

 

He’s got an argument on the tip of his tongue but Shiro’s diving back to press longer, open-mouthed kisses on Keith’s hips, hands pushing the tee up to reveal more skin. So instead of words, a husky groan falls out of Keith’s chest, his hands clutching at Shiro’s back.

 

His head drops back against the table with a soft thunk. Keith stares dreamily up at the ceiling, distantly making a mental note they had to clean the cobwebs off the lampshade while Shiro’s kisses inched closer and closer to his rising erection.

 

When Shiro’s hot lips finally connected with the veins under his dick, Keith is a squirming, panting mess. The first touch makes him sigh with relief and thrust up. But Shiro’s hands are there almost immediately, keeping him pinned to the table.

 

“Slow,” Shiro murmurs, hot breath washing against the tip of Keith’s dick. “I want to take my time.”

 

Keith swallows and nods, biting his lip when Shiro’s moves back in. It’s agony, _sweet_ , sweet agony because true to his word, Shiro takes his time. He follows the veins trailing down Keith’s dick and nuzzles the tight balls at the end. Sucks on each heavy sack carefully, nose buried in wiry hair. Comes back up by tracing a lazy line up with the tip of his tongue.

 

His hands restlessly go from scratching Shiro’s shoulders, stroking his buzzcut, trying to grab his short hair, to clutching his own hair as he feels nothing but warm, good, _loved_. From the way Shiro’s tongue laps up the beads of precome forming at the tip to how he takes Keith in all the way and just _rests,_ everything nudges Keith a little further towards completion.

 

But Shiro has said slow, so Keith fights back. Tries to catch his breath, tears in the corner of his eyes. Continues to bite him lips to stop himself from begging Shiro to get on with it. Fights to keep from bucking up in Shiro’s mouth when he hums around him and fails. Moans deeply when the tip of Shiro’s tongue teases under his foreskin. Twin trails of wetness fall down the side of his face, body and mind overwhelmed by frustrating pleasure.

 

Shiro’s saying something but Keith can’t hear it. He can’t hear anything over the heartbeat pounding in his ears. Can’t focus on anything else except Shiro - his hands, his mouth, _his tongue_. 

 

His curse comes out as a desperate sob, voice cracking as he gives up and pleads, “Takashi. _Takashi…_ Please _please_  I need to come can I please.” Shiro answers by abandoning his teasingly slow pace, bobbing his head while his hot mouth maintains a perfectly tight pressure.

 

Mouth open, Keith’s one high, breathless cry bleeds into another before culminating in a broken gasp of Shiro’s name. His body _shakes_ , heels digging into Shiro’s back as he comes on the other man’s tongue, lips, and cheek.  Another cry is yanked out of his burning lungs when Shiro’s tongue drags lazily up his twitching dick. 

 

“ _Shit_!” Keith grits his teeth, knuckles aching thanks to his tight grip. “Takashi that’s too…”

 

But Shiro’s already pulling back, one hand resting inches away from Keith’s rib cage while the other swipes Keith’s release up before it falls. But he’s not quick enough. A few sticky hot drops splash onto Keith’s stomach, making him shiver.

 

Shiro’s dipping his head to kiss and lick the drops away, pushing Keith’s shirt up with his nose playfully as he moves up. Laughing breathlessly, Keith finally lets go of the table and flexes his hand a few times to get rid of the stiffness in his fingers. They still feel tight when he pets Shiro’s hair, gently tugging on his fringe to make him look up. 

 

The open happy look in Shiro’s eyes makes Keith want to melt. In fact, he can feel some part of him go soft and goopy at the sight. It also gentles his grip when he pulls Shiro up for a soft kiss. His fingers move to cup the back of Shiro’s buzzed head as they continue to kiss. Keith sighs at the salty taste lingering on Shiro’s tongue and suckles on his swollen lips to keep them pink.

 

“Fuck me,” Keith sighs when Shiro’s hands grab his thighs and pull his ass against Shiro’s straining erection. He wants Shiro in him, wants to ride Shiro to slow completion, their fingers linked together the whole time. Keith wants to hold Shiro’s face and watch him come apart.

 

Shiro nods, guiding Keith’s legs around him before picking him up. Clinging to his boyfriend, Keith preoccupies himself by sucking a series of red marks high up on Shiro’s neck. He’s licking the third mark when Shiro says, “Whoops. Can’t forget that.”

 

Forget what? Keith raises his head, pouting as he's held in place against Shiro with one strong arm. His pout turns into a frown when he sees Shiro grabbing the syrup bottle and pour a generous amount of it over the plate of pancakes.

 

“Really?”

 

“May as well,” Shiro argues, capping the bottle. “We’re gonna get hungry after we’re done.”

 

Keeping Keith against him with one arm and holding the plate of food in the other, Shiro begins to walk to the bedroom.

 

“If you get any of that on the bed, you’re changing the sheets,” Keith warns.

 

Shiro rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna get any of the pancakes on the bed.”

 

"Mm. We'll see."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Keith forces Shiro to change the sheets because _someone_ got too distracted by kissing and put their hand on the edge of the pancake and syrup-sticky plate so that it tipped onto the sheets.


End file.
